A Gleeful Thanksgiving
by Bubble Wrapped Kitty
Summary: Three really short drabbles of a few Glee members celebrating the Thanksgiving holiday and thinking about what the holiday means to them and what they're thankful for. A little late but it merges with Christmas too. Will/Quinn/Tina POVs. Happy Holidays!
1. Will Schuester

AN: I really meant to post this for you guys Thursday to have on the holiday but then I got really sick and only just got over it. I know it's a little late for a Thanksgiving story, but this is sort of a blend of ending Thanksgiving and starting the Christmas holiday so I don't feel too bad posting it late. This is just three little drabbles about different Glee characters' Thanksgivings and musing about what the holidays mean and what they're thankful for. Not my greatest writing since I was sick when I wrote it, but I wanted to share a little holiday spirit with my fellow Gleeks.

First up is a really short bit for Mr. Schue, and then later I'll post Quinn's thanksgiving with Finn and his mom, and then because I can't resist myself, a Tina and Artie piece. I hope you enjoy, and Happy Holidays!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

I'm talking to my dad in a corner of the room, because it's about the only place we can stand without getting run over by Kendra's rampaging children. It's so loud with the screaming boys and Kendra yelling at them and her husband, that we're almost shouting at each other to be heard.

"The classes are going well so far," my dad says, stepping aside as one of the little boys (I can never tell them apart) nearly collides with his leg. "Dottie, go easy on those," he adds. Mom looks up innocently from her shot glass. "She had four before we'd even gotten into the car," Dad says to me. "You know how one gets around your sister-in-law."

I watch Terri's sister screaming family and nod. "I don't blame her. This place is a madhouse." Dad smiles in a way that tells me he's thinking 'madhouse' is an understatement. "But thanks for coming over. I wanted to have Thanksgiving with you and Mom but Terri'd already told Kendra we'd be here, and I couldn't argue it because the pregnancy hormones kicked in and–"

"It's okay, I understand. I had a pregnant wife once upon a time too."

"Alright, everyone, let's get this dinner going," Kendra snaps and then leads the way into the dining room. Her husband, a man I pity more than just about any other, is finishing putting the food on the table. She yells at him as we take our seats, something about the way he arranged the utensils, before finally sitting down so we can start dinner. We all take hands for the grace and I've got my dad on my left and Terri on my right. I can't help but zone out as Kendra starts talking.

Instead I look sideways at my dad, and my mom on his other side, who are willing to tolerate Terri's crazy relatives to spend the holiday with me. As if my dad can hear what I'm thinking, he squeezes my hand. Then I glance over at Terri and that beautiful baby bump. It occurs to me that this time next year we'll have our little girl with us for Thanksgiving. That thought makes me happy enough to block out the headache forming from my nephews' shouting. I can't wait until next year, because then I'll really have what the whole holiday is about anyway: a family.


	2. Quinn Fabray

AN: Wow, super stunned by the amount of interest this stirred up. I really wasn't expecting much of a following. Thanks to all of you. Here's part two, (which is much longer than part one) with Quinn spending her holiday at the Hudsons. (Probably a good time to mention that this is set post 1x11, so vague referenced spoilers to anything before that, but nothing crucial.) Enjoy and part three will be up later this evening.

* * *

The house has smelled like pumpkin and cinnamon all day. Mrs. Hudson has been working in the kitchen all day and she won't let Finn and I help. Instead I help Finn bring the Christmas decorations up from the basement and start setting them up. I stand out in the lawn to keep an eye on Finn while he hangs lights on the house. It's sweet to see; at my house we'd always hired people to decorate for us.

"Alright, kids, dinner," Mrs. Hudson yells out the door. Finn suddenly looks really excited and nearly falls off the ladder hurriedly finishing the strand, and then jumps down to run into the house. Men and food. I roll my eyes but follow him inside.

I've never seen such a small Thanksgiving dinner. When my family gets together it's an enormous table set for forty and the food is laid out like a picture in a catalogue. The Hudsons' little square dinner table is cramped with the food, and the china isn't as nice as my grandparents. There's an old radio on the kitchen counter playing Christmas music, I think it might be Bing Crosby. As we walk in Mrs. Hudson is pouring apple cider into glasses.

"It's probably nothing like you're used to," she says, looking apologetically at the table.

"It's better," I say, and it's true. This feels real, personal, like the family actually wants to be together. "This is beautiful, Mrs. Hudson."

"Karen," she reminds me. "Let's sit." We go to sit and I notice there are four places set at the table. I'm about to ask who the fourth place is for when I glance at Finn's face. He shakes his head and then looks pointedly at a picture hung on the wall, and I understand immediately; the fourth place is for his dad.

I had no idea Thanksgiving dinner could be so fun. With my family, everything is so formal and polite. Finn and his mom are cracking jokes and teasing each other through the whole meal, and it takes us forever to actually eat because we're all laughing so hard. The turkey is a little dry and the mashed potatoes are lumpy but I'm enjoying myself so much that it doesn't seem important.

When Mrs. Hudson brings us all slices of the most delicious pumpkin pie I've ever tasted, Finn digs in so eagerly he gets whipped cream on his nose. In return for laughing at him, he scrapes the whipped cream off his pie onto his fingers and wipes them on both Mrs. Hudson and my faces. By the time Mrs. Hudson decides to stop the whipped cream fight that ensued, none of us had any whipped cream left on our pies. I'm actually laughing so hard I'm crying as we wash our faces off. I don't know if I've ever had so much fun on a holiday.

Finn went in to set up the tree while I helped Mrs. Hudson with the clean up. Judging by the noises coming from the living room, Finn is not having a whole lot of luck, even though Mrs. Hudson assures me he does this every year. Sure enough, when we get into the room he's got the fake tree assembled and is nearly done stringing the lights on it. He smiles that goofy smile of his at his accomplishment and I can't help but love him.

We spend the next hour hanging the ornaments. There is a hodge-podge collection in the plastic tote, from handmade popsicle stick reindeer to pretty glass balls. While we are hanging them, Mrs. Hudson and Finn retell the stories behind them. There's a cottonball and construction paper snowman Finn made in kindergarten, and a crystal snowflake Mrs. Hudson inherited from her mother, and a porcelain angel that Finn's dad got for their first Christmas together.

Standing back to admire the tree, it looks so unlike the trees at my house it's hard to believe our families celebrate the same holiday. Our tree was always real, and the decorations are color coordinated and all made of glass. This tree is a little worse for wear, the star on top is plastic and the glittery paint is chipped in a few places, and the decorations are the most jumbled and mismatched collection possible. But at the same time this tree has something ours doesn't: memories. This tree sort of tells a history of their family's Christmas' together and that makes it more beautiful.

Once we've finished decorating, we settle down on the couch to watch_ Miracle on 34th Street_, which is apparently another Hudson family tradition. I'm a little embarrassed when I admit that I've never actually seen it before. We never really watched Christmas movies at my house, except things like _The Nativity_.

Finn sits in the middle, with an arm around his mom's shoulders. He has one around mine too but not long into the movie it slips down around my waist, letting one hand rest on my rounding stomach. He's trying to be sneaky about it but I know what he's doing; he's trying to see if he can feel the baby move, even though I've told him already that she hasn't started kicking around yet. The few times I think I've felt her, it's very light and not enough that he'd be able to feel it, but he's determined. I have to smile and I put my hands over his.

Sitting there on that couch with Finn and his mom, watching an old black-and-white Christmas movie while the brightly colored tree glitters in the corner, I have never felt so comfortable and loved. I miss the holidays with my family, but here I feel welcomed despite my mistakes. And I suddenly realize what it is that you really need for the holidays, and it's not parties or relatives or fancy decorations: it's _home_.


	3. Tina CohenChang

AN: Okay this one is super long compared to the others. I might have gotten just a little carried away, but I couldn't bare to edit anything out because I just love it too much. I went a little overboard with the Artie/Tina fluffy cuteness, but humor me, it's the holidays! Hopefully you guys enjoy!

* * *

I hate Thanksgiving. Everyone's families are getting together to celebrate and I'm sitting at home alone. Mom is at a conference in Toronto and Dad is on a lecture circuit for the next two weeks. They said we'd have a belated Thanksgiving dinner when they get home, but it's not the same thing. So I'm in the kitchen trying to decide what I'm going to eat for my Thanksgiving dinner. Looks like leftover chow mein…

The phone rings and I go to answer it, expecting it to be my mom calling to ask me how I'm faring the holiday on my own. "Cohen-Chang residence," I say dully.

"Tina?"

It's a grown up woman, but it's not my mom. "Yeah."

"Hi, Tina, this is Judy Abrams," she says and my eyes widen. Why is Artie's mom calling me? "I hope I'm not interrupting anything, honey, but Artie just told me that your parents are out of town today and I was wondering if you wanted to come have dinner with our family?"

For a while I'm so stunned I can't think of anything. Thanksgiving dinner with the Abrams? "I – yeah, that would be great," I finally gasp out, so touched I'm trying not to get choked up. "I'll be right over. Thank you, Mrs. Abrams."

"Anytime, honey," she says sweetly and then hangs up. I put down the phone and for a moment I can just stand there in shock. I had thought that after the truth about my stutter got out, the Abrams family wouldn't really accept me anymore. Artie had been really upset about it at first, but he eventually cooled down and now we're back to normal. However I was afraid his family might not have been as forgiving, because they'd always been understandably protective of Artie. But to invite me to Thanksgiving dinner with them because my family was gone…?

I blink back tears and smile, excited for the first time that it's a holiday. Racing up to my bedroom, I begin rifling through the closet for something nice to wear. I know it's a nice occasion and I am pretty sure my chain-covered jeans and fishnet gloves aren't appropriate. All of my dresses are tucked into the back of the closet because of how rarely I wear them, but my parents make me keep a few around for special occasions.

After a lot of deliberation, I finally pull out a belted black dress that hits just above my knees and has a dark blue cardigan. I have only worn it once, and while it's not even remotely close to what I normally wear it still looks good on me and it's dressy enough. I dig out a pair of black flats and get dressed in a rush. I clip my hair back so that it looks good and then toss my house keys and phone into a purse my mom got me last Christmas that has never yet seen the light of day. Giving myself one last once-over, I lock up the house and walk the two blocks down to the Abrams'.

When I get there, they are just loading into the van. Mrs. Abrams looks back at me and her eyes widen. "Oh, we were going to come pick you up dear, you didn't have to walk," she says.

"It's okay, Mrs. Abrams, it's not that long a walk," I assure her. "Thanks for inviting me."

"It's no problem," Mrs. Abrams says. "I couldn't let you be home alone on a holiday, and we're always happy to have you with us." She nods and I walk around to climb into the van. Artie has already been buckled inside in the front row of seats, and I'm assuming his chair is folded in the back. He looks up when I get in and instantly his mouth falls open just a little.

"Wow, Tina, you look great," he says and then turns bright red because his voice cracked on the last word. He clears his throat and tries again. "I'm really glad you came."

"Me too, it's nice to finally meet the girl my little brother talks about incessantly," says another voice from the row of seats behind us and I turn to him. He's tall and a bigger built than Artie, but they have the same big blue eyes and smile. "I'm Jack, Artie's older brother." I shake the hand he offers.

I hadn't even considered that I'd be meeting a bunch of Artie's family members. He had told me about his older brother but he's been studying abroad for like four years so we'd never met. It just occurs to me now that I'm going to be here with all his family members who know each other and I'll be the odd one out. I suddenly feel really self-conscious.

The ride up is pretty uneventful, and I mostly just listen to Artie and Jack trading stories. I know they don't get to talk often, with Jack being so far away for school, and it's fun listening to the older Abrams talk about the different countries he's been through.

When we get to what Artie informs me is his grandparents' house, we all go inside and in the dining room I find a family gathered around a table as big as the one my parents use for big dinner parties. Seeing such a big family is amazing to me, since I'm the only child of two only children. All of the Abrams look similar, and everyone from Artie's dad's side of the family has the same big blue eyes. Artie gives me a quick introduction of everyone and then assures me that no one expects me to actually remember all of it, which is good because I've already forgotten most of it.

The dinner is delicious. I haven't eaten a real, home-cooked Thanksgiving dinner since my grandparents died when I was ten and we stopped really celebrating it. The talk keeps up the whole time and I can see where Artie gets his optimism and sense of humor from, because all of them are always smiling and laughing.

It is a little awkward, being here with all of these people who know each other so well. My nerves must show on my face because Artie squeezes my hand under the table and smiles encouragingly. Not long after that one of Artie's aunts asks us about glee club and it feels good to finally have a topic where I can actually contribute. All of the awkwardness melts away and the Abrams treat me like one of the family.

One of Artie's younger cousins, a little girl who looks to be about eight or nine, is watching us curiously and then chimes in, "Artie, is she your girlfriend?"

Across from us, Artie's brother Jack snorts into his drink. Artie and I glance sideways at each other and then blush. "No, she's my best friend," he says.

The little girl frowns. "But you're in love with each other, I can see it," she says firmly. Jack is now laughing so hard he chokes and starts coughing, and I'm sure if I blush any harder my face might break. The whole thing wouldn't be near as embarrassing if it weren't for the fact that I think I might _be _in love with Artie. The girl looks at us very seriously. "You should make her your girlfriend."

"Alright, Vivian, I think that's enough from you," Jack says loudly. "If you make either of them any redder they just might melt into puddles." Thankfully he distracts her now, but I don't dare look at Artie for another five minutes because I know it'll make the blush come back.

"Kids, huh?" Artie says with an awkward laugh. I laugh too and we go back to our dinners, shooting glances at each other and looking away whenever the other catches us. I can't help but think about what the little girl said, that I should be Artie's girlfriend. A few weeks ago I had thought that might happen, until the stutter confession incident, and I'm still not at all opposed to the idea. The only thing stopping me is that I don't want to push Artie too fast after I hurt him so bad and we're just repairing our friendship.

"Okay everyone, do we want to move in to the tree now?" Artie's grandma says and everyone stands up and starts heading for the living room.

"Tree?" I ask curiously.

"Every year after Thanksgiving dinner we decorate the Christmas tree," Artie explains, waiting for everyone to go past so he can back his chair away from the table without rolling over toes. I follow him into the living room, taking my favorite spot behind his chair, and stare in awe at the enormous tree. My family doesn't put the Christmas tree up until the week before Christmas, as long as my parents are actually home then. Last year we put it up the night before Christmas Eve.

The younger cousins are already in full swing with the decorating. Grinning at me, Artie rolls up next to the tree and parks right by it. Without hesitation, his littlest cousins start climbing onto his lap to hang ornaments on the higher branches, standing on his legs with Artie holding onto their ankles to steady them. I can't help but laugh; leave it to Artie to find a way to make his disability an advantage. Artie nods for me to join him so I walk around and lean against the handles of his chair so I can talk to him out of the way of the decorating committee.

"This is sweet," I tell him, looking around at his family. Everyone under the age of eighteen (well, and Jack even though he's well into his twenties) is working on the tree while all of the adults stand around the edge of the room, talking and laughing. That's one thing that always seems to be going on in this house; laughing. "My family doesn't do things like this, but I really like it."

"Here." Artie picks up one of the ornaments that one of his younger cousins had just dumped into his lap and holds it over his shoulder to me.

"Oh no, I'll leave it for the kids," I say, pushing away the little blue bauble.

"No way, you're family tonight," Artie insists. "Everyone in the family hangs at least one ornament, it's a rule." He gives me that little frown where he's actually trying not to smile because he's sure he'll win. "C'mon, I picked out one I know you'll think is pretty. It's even your favorite color," he goads, nudging my arm with the ornament. When I don't relent he pushes his bottom lip out in a pout.

"Alright, alright, if you're gonna cry about it," I say and laugh, shaking my head. I take the ornament from him and examine the blue glass ball, embellished with sparkly silver lines. I really do think it's pretty. Artie knows me too well. Turning to the tree, I stand up on my toes and slip the little silver thread onto a bare branch. When I look down, Artie is smiling almost too happily.

A few minutes later, the kids announce that the boxes are empty. Artie's grandpa pulls up another smaller box and when he opens it he lifts out a beautiful gold star tree topper. "Okay, who's turn is it this year?" he asks, looking over the kids. "It was Theresa last year so that means it's… Artie, right?"

The cousins start clapping and Artie smiles in that modest way of his. "You want a lift, little brother?" Artie's brother asks, grinning cheekily.

"Actually I was thinking," Artie says. "I wanna give my turn to Tina." Everyone's eyes turn on me and I try not to blush for the millionth time tonight. I shake my head but Artie looks determined as he smiles.

"Tina, Tina, Tina," he chants and immediately the others pick up on it until everyone is cheering it. I try to find a way out of it, but Artie's expression tells me it's not likely.

"Artie, it's your thing, I don't want to cut in," I say awkwardly.

"I told you, you're family tonight," he says with a shrug, but he hasn't stopped grinning at me. "How many times are you gonna have this opportunity? Carpe diem, Tee." Artie's grandpa offers the star out to me with a raised eyebrow and I only hesitate a second longer before I accept it. Everyone's cheering again as I turn back to Artie. "We'll make it a tag team effort," he offers and pats his thigh.

"You sure?" I ask uncertainly.

"Don't act squeamish, it won't hurt me," he says with a laugh. He wheels slightly closer to the tree so the lower branches are touching his shoulder and then puts on the brakes. I bite my lower lip, but toe out of my shoes and climb hesitantly onto his legs. Artie grabs onto my calves tightly as I straighten up, and when I glance down at him he smiles and nods. I try to ignore the fact that his hands, devoid of gloves for the special occasion, are around the bare skin of my legs, or that he's leaning his head back so he can look up at me without looking up my skirt. I reach up and carefully arrange the star on the topmost branch. When I lean back to admire it, everyone starts clapping.

"Yay, Tina!" Artie says, as enthusiastically as the little kids, as I climb down off his lap. I bend over and hug him tightly. As bizarre and awkward as the night has been, it's been the greatest Thanksgiving I've had in a really, really long time.

"Ooh look!" I straighten up to see what the squeal was about and see the little girl from dinner standing a few feet away. She's holding a tuft of green leaves in her hand and as she comes closer I notice the little white berries in them. "Mistletoe!" she cheers, standing on her toes to try and put it over my head but only succeeding in tapping me in the shoulder with it. "Kiss her, Artie," she instructs.

Artie and I both splutter in embarrassment as his family erupts into laughter. They're chanting again, "Kiss, kiss," and I look at Artie hopelessly. None of them can realize the odd position they've put us in; I don't think any of them except maybe his immediate family know the disastrous outcome of our last kiss, if Artie even told them. I know he was pretty tight-lipped about the whole thing. He stares back at me for a second and I can see he's thinking the same thing. Then he shrugs and raises an eyebrow, grinning shyly.

"Might as well," he says. "They won't shut up otherwise." Jack laughs loudly and redoubles the chanting efforts. I take a deep breath, putting on a show of being resigned, but my heart is hammering in my chest. I had expected him to refuse, find some joking way to push it all off so he could avoid it, but he agreed. Maybe this meant he really had completely forgiven me now.

Leaning down to his level, we share a quick, chaste kiss. Not near as much passion behind it as last time, but just as much of a spark in my stomach. When we both pull back, we're blushing like mad and I laugh at that familiar smile on his face. Yeah, we really have made progress.

Jack wolf whistles until Artie unlocks his brakes and chases half-heartedly after him. Everything in the room is bright and happy, and the family breaks apart into groups. The little kids go out into the yard to play football and catch with Jack and another older cousin. Some of the girls our age are in a corner and laughing loudly. The men settle around the TV to watch the football game and the women go into the kitchen. Artie and I sit in front of the window, watching the sports out in the yard.

"Thanks for inviting me, Artie," I say sincerely. "I've had a really great time."

"That's what I hoped for," Artie says and smiles. We talk about other things for a while, mostly school and glee, until it gets dark and the families starts gradually trooping for the door. We are some of the last ones to leave and it's pitch dark outside for the drive home.

Mr. Abrams turns on a radio station playing Christmas music, and I instinctively hum along with the familiar songs. Artie smiles and joins me. A few songs later, I yawn and let my head fall onto his shoulder, tired from the long, eventful day. Not long after that, his hand brushes mine lightly, questioningly, and I smile as I lace our fingers together.

"Tina?" Artie whispers ten minutes later, and I hum to show I'm listening. "_Should_ I make you my girlfriend, like Vivian said?"

I lift my head and turn to look at him. He's trying to smile, but he's chewing on his lower lip like he does when he's nervous. Artie's girlfriend? I beam. "I think maybe you should," I agree and Artie visibly relaxes, his smile suddenly blindingly bright. "Just don't tell your cousin, we'll never hear the end of it."

Artie laughs and squeezes my hand affectionately, and then I lay my head on his shoulder again. A half-beat later, Artie rests his own head on top of mine and it feels really nice. There's no contest; Thanksgiving is now my favorite holiday. And I don't have to think very hard to know who it is I'm most thankful for.


End file.
